


Lying in the Embers

by Scarlett_Rogue



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fallen Castiel, M/M, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-18
Updated: 2013-04-18
Packaged: 2017-12-08 20:44:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/765827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlett_Rogue/pseuds/Scarlett_Rogue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean quit hunting two years ago and opened a small coffee shop called The Roadhouse, with every intention of living a normal life. That is, until a man stumbles into his shop, injured and broken, with nowhere else to go. Dean wants to believe he's just a normal dude, but the evidence is stacking up against him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lying in the Embers

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place sometime after Season 5, but Sam never went to Hell. Dean and Castiel have never met.

Dean gave up hunting years ago, shortly after he lost Ellen and Jo. It was too much to ask of him and he deserved better. He still wasn't sure if this is what he had in mind, but it sure beat living out of a car and duffel, dragging his little brother through Hell and back. The world would go on turning without Dean Winchester, the Hunter. 

He took up the last name Smith and bought a shitty little restaurant ten miles from Sam's law school, close enough to go see Sam when he wanted to but far enough to give his brother some space. He turned the restaurant in to a coffee shop and named it The Roadhouse in honor of the Harvelle's. After two years, Dean had gotten used to the weird people who came in for coffee just being weird people; not demons out to get him, not possessed people, not ghosts or ghouls or vampires, just people. He stopped stashing his knife under the register, stopped sprinkling salt by the entrance every morning when he opened shop. 

Life was normal, for once. 

Everything changed the day _he_ walked in. Dean was wiping down the counters, listening to his Assistant Manager, Christine, taking someone's order across the room, when a man pushed the door open and practically stumbled in. He was covered in dust and dirt, blood on his chin and hands, and he looked to be having a hard time walking. Dean shoved the washcloth away and moved around the corner quickly, catching the man by the shoulder as he was about to fall over.

"Whoa, come on, I got you." Dean led him by the shoulder to a booth in the corner and helped him sit. He tried to speak, what Dean assumed was a thank you, but it came out gargled.

"Christine, get me a glass of water and a clean cloth!" 

The man bent over the booth and started a coughing fit, one Dean knew was sure to end with blood on the seats. Christine came back quickly, shoving a cloth into his hand and setting a drink down on the table.

"Take over for a bit, kay?" Dean nodded at her. She eyed the man carefully and nodded back but not without giving Dean a warning look. 

Christine knew nothing about Dean's life as a Hunter, but he had told her enough for her to know that his past had been filled with violence. Dean gave her a small, reassuring smile and turned his attention to the man sitting in front of him.

"Hey, you need me to call somebody to come get you?"

The man shook his head but even as he did so he let out another rough cough.

"Dude, you look pretty bad. Lemme get an ambulance down here for you." He hadn't even turned all the way around before a hand grabbed at his wrist and yanked him back with surprising strength. Dean instinctively reached for his gun, the same gun that had spent most of his life resting in his jacket pocket, but it wasn't there anymore. Hell, he wasn't even _wearing_ a jacket. 

"Please..." Dean looked at the man's face, at his startling blue eyes framed in dirt, and saw nothing but fear there. "Please don't- they can't know-"

"Who can't?" The man dropped his hand and took a deep, ragged breath, shaking his head. "Who can't?" 

"It doesn't matter anymore," he said in a small voice. Sorrow like Dean had never heard before overcame the man. 

"O...kay. Whatever that means. What's your name?"

Dean took a seat on the table right in front of the man and took up the washcloth. He pushed the man's head up by his chin and started wiping the blood and dirt off his face; it was starting to make him nervous.

"C-castiel." 

"Castiel. Hmm. Where you from?"

"I have no home." Dean's hands stilled on his face; after a few seconds he remembered himself and continued, running the cloth along the man's chin. Once the dirt was gone Dean could see a thin layer of stubble and a firm, strong jawline. 

"Join the club," Dean mumbled sarcastically. 

"You've made _this_ your home, haven't you?" Castiel pulled his head away from Dean's swift fingers and for a split second his eyes filled with something fierce, some remnant of what he was before this incident. Dean blinked and the look was gone; just a tired, hurt, lonely man, waiting for an answer that he probably didn't care about.

"Yeah, I guess…whatever. You want some coffee?"

"No, no thank you."

Dean leaned over conspiratorially. 

"Something stronger, maybe?" He patted Castiel on the shoulder and headed to the fridge in the back. He found the bottle of his favorite Scotch hidden in the back and filled a medium coffee cup with Scotch. He was hoping to get the man just tipsy enough to convince him to go to the hospital. He was sure there were wounds that he couldn't see, much worse than the ones he could, and Castiel needed medical attention.

"Dean!" 

Christine came around the corner as Dean was pouring the Scotch. 

"Everything okay out there?" He asked.

"I could ask you the same thing. Who is that? The hell happened to him?"

"I don't know and I don't really care. I wanna get him liquored up just enough to convince him to go to the hospital."

"He didn't tell you anything?"

"Nope. Just said he had no home."

"I don't like it. Seems...weird."

Dean shoved the bottle back in the fridge and put a top on the cup. "Christine, weird is practically our specialty. For all we know he fits right in. I'll be with him for a few more minutes, think you can hold down the fort?"

"Who do you think opens when you sleep through your alarm?" She answered with an indignant huff. Dean flashed a wide smile before going out to the front.

He stopped in his tracks when he saw the empty booth where Castiel had just been sitting. Scanning the small shop, he saw that it was empty. 

"Maybe he went to clean up in the bathroom." Christine was suddenly behind him and Dean tried to cover up the fact that she had scared the shit out of him.

"Nah," he shook his head slowly and took a drink of Scotch. "He's gone."

-

Two weeks and no sign of Castiel. If Christine hadn't seen him too, Dean would have thought he was going crazy. He tried to convince himself that Castiel was just a normal dude who got in some shit and ended up at Dean's shop. He could have been a happily married man with a gambling addiction who gambled away his family's fortune and got acquainted in a very bad way with the mob. Maybe his family kicked him out. Maybe that's what he meant by having no home. 

Supernatural things didn't happen to Dean anymore. That part of his life was long gone. Castiel had to be a normal guy. He had to be.

But Dean couldn't shake the small part of him that told him to be careful, that part that warned him Castiel was so much more than Dean thought - something dangerous. 

Dean had told himself that he didn't care how or why Castiel had ended up there, but everyday found him wishing the man would wander in once again, and every day he was disappointed. So life went on as it did before Castiel showed up.

"Order up! Where's a new chef when you need one?" Dean shoved two plates across the counter to Christine and Larson, his part-time waiter.

"You gotta hire one, Bossman!" Christine gave him a sassy smile and grabbed table 2's plate.

"I did! He was supposed to show up today. Some dude named Derek. Always hated that name."

"Good thing we got you, then."

"Yeah, lucky I can actually cook!"

The bell chimed as the door was pushed open and Dean turned to greet the customer. His smile faltered, body frozen for a split second, before his mind started working again.

"Larson, take over the steaks for me. Don't burn anything!"

Dean grabbed a notepad and pen from the counter and strutted over to the new customer's table at the back of the small shop.

"Castiel, never thought I'd see you again." His eyes roamed over the man's body quickly, noting his clean jeans and button down shirt, and all signs of damage to his person gone. He looked like every other customer now, nothing out of the ordinary, except those eyes. Too blue, and didn't people usually _blink_ when they stared at you?

"I wanted to...apologize. For the way I barged in two weeks ago. It was inexcusable."

"Dude," Dean laughed, "you were a mess. I was more worried about your health than the manner of your entrance."

"I appreciate your concern for me," he said sincerely. His eyes bore into Dean's and Dean shifted uncomfortably.

"Yeah, well, just doin' my job as a...human. You know how it is with us humans." 

Castiel nodded and a look of fondness filled his eyes. "Yes, I do recall you humans being overly compassionate."

A warning shiver, the same one Dean used to get when he was still a Hunter, ran up his spine at the mention of 'you humans'. But Castiel was just a normal dude, just like Dean. That shiver was completely ridiculous.

Except could Dean really call himself a normal dude?

"I didn't get your name last time," Castiel said in what would have been a casual tone if he had gotten it right, but it sounded odd in his gruff voice. Like he was still getting used to differentiating tones...And now Dean was overanalyzing his damn tone!

"The name's Dean."

"Dean." Castiel looked away, contemplative, before he looked back at Dean with a glimmer in his eyes. "Hello Dean."

"Hey," Dean said lamely. "So can I get you anything? I mean, without you running off before I can get it to you."

Castiel blushed slightly but looked over the menu in front of him. His eyebrows pulled together in confusion before he turned back to Dean with genuine curiosity.

"What's good?"

Dean cocked him head to the side. People were always asking that question, but not with that tone, not as if they really didn't know what tasted good and what didn't. That nagging feeling kicked at Dean's conscious once more but he pushed it down. _Normal dude_. 

"Well, the burgers are pretty damn good, if I do say so myself." Dean smiled as Castiel's lips twitched in to an almost-smile.

"Then I would like a burger please. And a small cup of coffee."

"One burger, one small coffee comin' up. Don't run away while I'm gone, Cas."

Dean was halfway through cooking up the burger before he realized what he had just called Castiel. He wanted to slam his head on a cabinet but the closest ones were in the back and he wasn't walking that far just to injure himself. 

"Psst, did you ask him what happened yet?" Christine pinned another order on the line and pushed it down to him so it dangled a few inches away from his head.

"'Course not."

"Why not?"

"Timing, Christine." He plated the burger and made up a small coffee. "Tell Larson to get over here and put the next steak on. He did good with the last ones."

Dean set Castiel's food in front of him and waited for the man to take a cautious bite of the food. He watched every second, overanalyzing what it could mean, telling himself it was only to figure out who - or what - Castiel was, nothing more. But he couldn't stop his eyes from tracing over the lines on Castiel's lips or the drop of ketchup that slid down his chin when he took a bite. He chewed for a few seconds, swallowed in a way that didn't look normal at all, and flashed Dean a genuine smile. Not a big one, but Dean still considered it a win.

"It's very delicious!" 

"Glad we could find somethin' you like. Lemme know if you need anything else."

Dean left Castiel to his food and continued his life, taking orders and making food, making jokes with some of the customers, teasing his employees, everything that he'd done before Castiel entered his life. Except for the stares he kept throwing toward the man. Those were fairly new.

Castiel left during the dinner rush when Dean was too busy to realize that he'd gone, but not without leaving him a ten dollar tip for a five dollar meal.

-

"I can't- no Dean, that's way too much grease, I need- Dean!" 

"Shut up and let me feed you, Sammy." Dean plopped a plate down in front of his little brother, covered with a burger, steak, and a pile of fries. "It's not every day you stop in to see me."

"Yeah, well, it's not every day I get a chance to drive out of town. You wouldn't believe the kinds of papers I've had to write lately."

"Hey, you chose the nerd life, not me."

"Whatever, jerk."

"Bitch."

"Sam, did Dean tell you about his new crush?" Christine came out from the back and flashed Sam a bright smile.

"Crush? No, he hasn't." Sam turned his gaze to Dean.

"Don't look at me! I have no idea what she's talkin' about."

The bell chimed and Dean shot Christine a warning look as she was about to keep talking. Her eyes turned to the door and back to Dean. 

"Speak of the devil," She hummed. "Why don't you go take his order, Boss." 

Dean rolled his eyes and shoved the apron at Christine before heading over to Castiel.

"Hey, Cas, nice to see you again. What can I get you today?"

"Hello Dean. Another burger and coffee would be splendid."

"Comin' right up.” Dean jotted down the order, ripped the paper off, and went to stick it to the line. 

"Dean, is that your new crush?" Sam whispered across the counter. Dean flailed his arms like an idiot to get Sam to shut up.

"No!" He whispered back. 

"You're blushing."

Dean didn't even want to dignify that with an answer. He went back to Cas' table.

"Mind if I join you?"

"Please do. Is that your brother?" 

"Yup, my little pain in the ass brother. He's getting his law degree right now."

Castiel smiled slightly at Sam, eyes lit up oddly again. "It's good that he could find happiness after all this time," he said softly. 

There it was, that warning sign, except now it was like a siren in his ears. Did Castiel know about him and Sam? Did he know about Hunters? About Supernatural things in general? 

Christine set Castiel's plate down in front of him and, still smiling, he picked up his burger and leaned forward. Something slipped out of his shirt, something shining bright and blue in a tiny glass jar.

Dean couldn't have jumped up fast enough if his pants were on fire. He knew what that was. He'd seen it before.

"Dean, are you okay?"

"Castiel, can I have a word with you outside for a minute?" Dean could hear the strain in his voice. Sam had abandoned his food and was giving Dean a weird look. 

"I..suppose." Castiel got up from the table, confused, and wandered outside without asking questions. That just made it worse. It was like he knew what Dean was going to say.

"Dean, what the hell?" Sam grabbed Dean by the shoulder. Dean shook him off and went in the back, into his office, to get his knife.

"Dean, talk to me!"

"It was Grace, Sam! An Angel's Grace around his neck."

"So you think..."

"Who was the last person we knew who wore an Angel's Grace, Sam?"

Sam nodded darkly. "Uriel."

"Exactly. I'll be back. Stay here and watch over them."

It was getting dark outside when Dean pushed the door open. A sliver of gold lingered on the edge of the sky. Dean looked both ways, not seeing Castiel anywhere, and sighed, thinking the man had run off again. Just as he was going to head back in his saw a sleeve sticking out along the building. He walked cautiously toward it, knife in his hand. 

Castiel turned toward the sound of Dean's footsteps and Dean pounced instantly, grabbing him by the shirt collar and flinging him against the side of the building, holding him there.

"What the hell are you?!"

"Dean, stop!" Castiel coughed as Dean pushed into his throat. Dean shook his head and pulled the glass bottle out of his shirt. Bright blue light danced inside its confines, tapping at the glass.

"So what Angel to you screw over to get this, hmm? Answer me!"

"It-It's mine!" 

"Bullshit!"

"Dean Winchester, I swear to my Father-"

Dean dropped him instantly, backing away slowly. Ruby's knife was poised in his hand, ready to attack. Castiel caught himself halfway down, coughing, and pulled himself up slowly.

"How do you know my name? Who are you?"

"How could I not know the Righteous Man when I see him? Your face was programmed into all our heads. And there aren't too many Dean's wandering the Earth with a younger brother named Sam."

"Whose Grace did you steal?"

Castiel cocked his head in agitation and reached for the bottle. He held it gently in his hand, reverently.

"Were you not listening? It's _mine_."

And suddenly it clicked, why Dean had been suspicious of Castiel in the beginning just from hearing his name: Anna. _Anael_ , the fallen Angel.

Seconds dragged out as Castiel looked into the tiny bottle - blues eyes half closed and sad - and Dean watched him. He took a step forward onto the curb and pulled his knife closer to him.

"If that's your Grace then why haven't you, I don't know, reattached it to yourself?"

"It doesn't work like that," Castiel muttered darkly. He let the bottle drop. "Come inside and I'll explain everything. I'm hungry."

Dean followed Castiel back inside his shop, to his table, and sat down across from him. He peaked over to the register and saw Larson cooking. He was good at that. Dean should probably let him cook more often. Sam was still leaning against his stool. Dean nodded but said nothing to him. 

"So start talkin'. I'm more than a little confused."

"I'm an Angel, but I'm sure you gathered that by now." Castiel plucked the bread off his burger and started smothering it in ketchup. "I'm the Angel of Thursday, and until a few years ago I was the perfect son. I followed my orders and I lead others. Then one day I disobeyed my orders and starting running. From Heaven, from my own guilt, but I was always running toward humanity. I did some things I'm not proud of and got on the bad side of an Angel named Naomi. She ripped my Grace out, not me."

"And what, you can't put it back in?"

"An Angel's Grace can only be restored by the one who removed it, Dean." Castiel gave him a hard stare. Dean nodded slowly.

"So the first day you stumbled in here..."

"The day I fell. I collected my Grace just a few weeks later."

"Why'd you do it, Cas?" Castiel looked up at him through a mouthful of burger and chewed slowly. When he swallowed he set the burger down and leaned forward slightly.

"It's personal," he said evenly. His burger was only half eaten but he still pulled out his wallet and put some cash on the table. "And I'm not prepared to share it. Not yet. Good day, Dean."

He left without saying goodbye to anyone else. Dean collected the cash from the table, along with the burger and untouched coffee, and brought them to the back.

"So?" 

"Not now, Sam."

"Whatever, Dean." Sam rolled his eyes and snagged the other half of Cas' burger. "Did you and your boyfriend have a fight?"

Dean sighed as he dumped the coffee in the sink. 

-

Castiel didn't come back for weeks. Dean didn't really expect him to, not after he'd pinned the man to a wall and practically choked him to death. Even so, he'd hoped. Every time the bell jingled he glanced at the door expectantly, and each time he was disappointed. He should have been happy that Castiel never came back; he was, after all, a piece of Dean's old life, a life he had left behind years ago. Castiel being here meant Dean being reintroduced, or at least, involved in the supernatural world once more. He didn't want that. He didn't want to be dragged in to a fallen Angel's battles.

But he worried about Castiel every day. He worried that someone like Uriel would come and snatch up his Grace and kill him, like he tried to do with Anna. He worried that Castiel wouldn't be able to function around people and wouldn't be able to make a living in the human world. But more than anything, he worried that Castiel would be lonely. Dean wasn't much, but he was someone to talk to, someone who would understand the shit-storm that disguised itself as destiny. 

At some point he had to come to terms with the fact that his curiosity, his interest in Castiel was not entirely platonic. He wasn't exactly surprised; he'd had little flings with dudes before; nothing serious, nothing ever this consuming. Nothing that kept him awake at night planning how he could track a person down without it being considered stalking.

Finally, a month after their last talk, Castiel came back. He didn't spare a glance at Dean, just went to his isolated booth in the corner and sat. He had a backpack today and he pulled out a book that Dean couldn't see the title of.

"You gonna get that?" Christine asked, nodding to Castiel. Dean grabbed his pad and pen, took a deep breath, and made his way to Castiel's table.

"Hey, Cas. Long time no see."

He was surprised when Castiel looked up at him with a bright smile. He closed his book and stuffed it back in his backpack.

"I know. I'm sorry about that. I was...angry."

"At me?"

"Yes." 

Dean stuffed the pad and pen in his apron and took a seat across from Castiel.

"You had every right to be. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have accused you of anything like that."

"I forgive you," he said sincerely. 

"What'cha readin'?" Dean inclined his head toward the book, which Castiel blushingly pulled out of his bag. He held it up and Dean groaned.

"You aren't!"

"What? It's a fascinating read." Castiel smiled down at his copy of Supernatural by Carver Edlund.

"It's a load of shit. Seriously, you should just throw that out the window right now."

"How did you like the Prophet?"

"He was..." Dean laughed and shook his head. "He was a mess...but he grew on me. Haven't heard from him in a long time."

"That's what happens when you leave the life, Dean." Castiel turned the page and read a few more lines. Dean cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Do you think I should have kept going?"

"Yes. But then, that's the lingering obedience of my background speaking. Personally, I think you should do what makes you happy. Hunting didn't make you happy."

"Why'd you disobey, Cas?"

Castiel closed the book, keeping his fingers between the pages, and stared searchingly into Dean’s eyes. 

"Buy me coffee and I'll tell you."

Castiel gave him a sly smile. Dean smirked back and pushed himself out of the booth.

"Christine, can you make me two coffees and two burgers, bring them over to the corner booth. I'm taking my lunch break." He pulled some cash out of his wallet that was in his jacket hanging over the register's chair and stuffed it in his pocket.

"Enjoy your date," she winked at him.

Dean wandered back over and, instead of sitting across from Castiel, nudged him with his hip.

"Scoot." Cas looked surprised but instantly shoved his backpack to the floor and moved over enough for Dean to slide it. The booths were tiny, though, and it was a bit intimate for two grown men. Dean liked the weird current of energy he felt rushing off Castiel's body; a wave of warmth that made him want to move closer and throw an arm around his shoulders.

Christine dropped their food off without a word and Dean picked his cup up, took a sip, and looked at Castiel through his eyelashes.

"So why did you disobey?"

"I..." Castiel poked at his burger and avoided Dean's eyes. "I disagreed with an order I was given. The whole 'setting Lucifer free' thing didn't really float my ship."

"Boat," Dean corrected with a fond smile.

"Yes, that." Castiel laughed and picked a piece of meat off his burger before he popped it in his mouth.

"So I went against my orders. I tried my hardest to work against Heaven, even though they were my brothers and sisters."

"But what made you disobey? What didn't you want to tell me a month ago."

"Dean..."

"Come on, Cas." Dean scooted closer, despite his mind screaming PERSONAL SPACE as loud as it could. Their thighs were touching and Castiel took in a sharp breath.

"You," he spat out quickly. He cheeks turned a beautiful shade of pink as he looked away quickly.

"M-me?"

"You and Sam, I mean. Well, mostly you at first. Sam came later. But yes, you. Just seeing how you refused to back down, refused to let so-called destiny decide your future. It was incredible. I thought that if you could do it, so could I. So I disobeyed. I did what I could to aid you and Sam without you two knowing; I didn't think you'd trust Angels after your run-in with Uriel. And I did some not so good things to keep you two safe. It came back to bite me eventually. Naomi got to me and ripped my Grace out."

"Cas, you stupid son of a bitch-"

"Excuse you?" Castiel turned on him sharply.

"Do you hear yourself? Dammit, come with me." Dean grabbed him by the hand and dragged him out of the booth, anger making his steps father and longer, and Cas was rushing to keep up.

The wind outside was gentle and cool, enough to take the edge off the hot day. Dean dragged Cas to the side of the building and pushed him away.

"Dean, what makes you think you can-"

"Shut up for five seconds!" Cas' jaw snapped shut, eyes blazing. "You ruined your entire life, all of it, for me? What the hell is wrong with you? I thought Angels were supposed to be smarter than that!"

"Dean, now is the worst time to insult my intelligence."

"You gambled your wellbeing on my ability to not be a complete waste of space. In case you were curious, Waste of Space is practically my middle name! Fuck, no wonder you fell. From the moment you first took interest in me you were lost."

"Stop." Castiel took three angry strides forward and for a second Dean thought he was going to hit him. His hands wrapped hard around the collar of Dean's shirt but then relaxed, lingering on his collarbone. He was so close and only a few inches shorter, and it would be too easy for Dean to lean over right now and press their lips together.

"You were worth every action I took to protect you, even the one that landed me here. I do not regret anything, Dean, not when it comes to you. And you're far from worthless. You mean so much to so many, Dean."

Castiel's eyes lit up with passion and for the first time Dean swore he could see the powerful, ageless, celestial being that Cas once was. How big and strong he must have been, how logical and linear and cold he must have been at some point, and how gentle he must have become, even while spitting fire. 

"I'm not worth it," He said again, pitifully. It was more of an attempt to convince himself. He wasn't stupid, after all. He threw away his aversion to emotions long ago, and he knew exactly what emotion Castiel was displaying. It was too much.

"You will always be worth it, Dean Smith."

Dean felt his lip twitch into a smile. Castiel saw it, too, and his eyes traveled down to the ex-hunter's lips.

"The only thing I regret is keeping my distance from you for so long."

"You don't have to be distant anymore. I want you to be close."

"How close?" Cas smirked as his flattened palms moved down, lingering over Dean's chest.

"This close."

It was too easy to lean forward and capture Castiel's lips in his own, too easy to push him back until he was resting against the side of Dean's little coffee shop, too easy to lace his fingers in Castiel's hair and pull him into the kiss. Too easy to tell himself that this could be how he'd spent the rest of his life, working in this shop and loving this one person.

It was too easy, so that's exactly what Dean did.


End file.
